The work week is coming to an end and the weekend is fast approaching. Oh, how I love weekends. Oh, how I love to be home. There’s really no other place on earth that I’d rather be. There isn’t anything fancy or overly luxurious about my home. It’s just a simple little place along the line of many that look just like it.

I remember when we found it…we really weren’t even looking, just thinking about it. My husband and I were in our mid 20’s, when one day, on his way home from the store, he saw this house with a homemade sign out front, “For Sale By Owner.” He decided to stop and get the phone number, just so we could see what homes were going for, in the area we wanted to live someday. A woman stepped out onto the front porch and asked him if he’d like to see inside.

It was a very simple little home – the smallest floor plan in the area – owned by a single mom with two teenage boys. Times had gotten tough and she just couldn’t keep it any longer. She wasn’t making any money off of it, just needed to get out from underneath the obligation. After a little bit of homework, we realized that we would be able to get it. We didn’t even look around at any other homes in the area. As far as we were concerned, this was meant for us.

I giggle when I think of a memory when I drove my dad past it. He said, “That will be a really nice little fixer upper for you guys.” I was hurt by his comment because, to me, it was perfect! However, after 25 years in our little home, we’re still fixin’ her up. (I giggle some more.)

But if our walls could talk – oh wow, what stories they would tell. You’d hear all about the four sons we raised. You’d hear the sound of children playing; riding little playskool toys in circles through the hallway and kitchen (on hardwood floors) – ‘round and around they’d go. You’d hear the sound of teenagers; friends hanging out, loud music, telephone calls from girls, cleats on the floors during sports season. You’d hear the sounds of family; chatter and laughter at the dinner table, conversations into the early morning hours, difficult moments when doors slammed, crying, more talking and more laughter. You’d hear love.

There was a time that we felt packed in like sardines and ventured out to find a larger place for us. The doors never opened – and we came to realize that we were exactly where we were supposed to be. As squished in as we felt at times, our small home played a key role in keeping us close to one another and looking back, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Our home has quieted down now. We are empty nesters. I’m fortunate enough to have my children nearby, so the grandkids can come and visit. The chatter and noise lives on and on, and that makes me smile; another generation for our walls to soak up.

Our home has a personality. I believe you can tell what we’re all about when you step over the threshold; a simple, casual, “take your shoes off and stay for a while” sort of feeling.

Our home has a heartbeat. I believe that if you sit down for a visit and linger there, you’ll hear it – or maybe feel it.

The years here have taught me, it’s truly not about the “things” you own…home is a connection to your heart. It’s the happiness, joy and love that you embrace and allow to flow through it.

I am so happy it’s Friday. I cannot wait to go home!

What do your walls say?

But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection.~Colossians 3:14

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